Comforting Copulation
by shaybo
Summary: This was about more than sex; this was comfort of the most hedonistic kind. My entry for Twin Exchange's January Challenge.


**Author's Notes**: This is my first entry into the Twin Exchange Monthly Challenge! I hope you all enjoy and don't forget to vote for your favorite. This was a lot of fun and I actually got a story done promptly. Amazing.

**Prompt:** Temptation

**Pairing:** Hermione/Bill

**Quote:** "You have got to be kidding me."

**Theme:** Severus Snape born January 9, 1960

Hermione was a fairly sympathetic person. Throughout her Hogwarts years, she had attempted – or at least, tried to attempt – to instigate some inter-House unity, not to mention approaching all enemies with as much respect as she could muster (i.e. Pansy Parkinson). She was all for moving on, finding the good in people, and forgiving mistakes. Unless, of course, it came to a certain Ronald Weasley and his uncountable transgressions that had made pursuing a relationship after the War a complete impossibility. Plus, you know, he was shagging Harry.

She remembered the night well. She Floo'd back from a night of drinks with Ginny and arrived at the flat she shared with her two best friends a little after midnight. Stumbling from the living room to the kitchen, she fixed herself a glass of water and Advil (good old Muggle pre-hangover lessons her mother had inadvertently taught her) and was about to make her way to her warm bed when she heard sounds coming from Harry's room. Sounds that seemed like... _moaning_.

Still slightly cross with Harry for his breakup with Ginny and the awkward mess that had ensued, Hermione stomped (well, wobbled) to his bedroom. Opening the door, she was confronted by the image of her two very naked friends engaging in some very _not-_friend-like behavior.

"You have got to be kidding me," she had slurred.

Naturally, things had been a bit awkward with the trio. For financial reasons Hermione was stuck in a lease with the two of them, so she had taken to spending as much time as possible away from her home. That is until a tearful Harry had begged her to return for what he called a "memorial for a fallen hero".

Wincing, Hermione had thought about the dozens of funerals she had attended after Voldemort's defeat and couldn't think of a slain friend whose life hadn't been celebrated. Tentatively, she decided to ask Harry who the "fallen hero" was.

"Severus Snape," he hiccuped through his tears. "He saved me, Hermione. It's his birthday next week. Or it would have been, if he hadn't..."

So, here she was, standing in her cramped flat with the surviving members of the Order, old classmates, and the usual Weasleys (who, luckily, didn't fault her for leaving Ron, as he turned out to be gay and everything), Celestina Warbeck's greatest hits sounding from the radio. Above her hung a banner that read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SEVERUS SNAPE!" with dancing snakes on all four corners. Harry was cutting into a lime green birthday cake, sobbing and telling the story of "Severus Snape, Unsung Hero" as he did so.

"Hey, Hermione," a familiar voice said. Hermione turned and, upon seeing the ginger-haired man behind her, beamed.

"Bill!" she said, throwing her arms around him in a hug. Snowflakes from outside stuck to his hair and his jacket. "How are you? How's Fleur?"

Bill waved his hand. "In Cannes with her parents for the holidays. How're you? Living with Ron and Harry alright?"

Hermione was suddenly very aware of the many people around her. "It's fine," she answered a touch too quickly. Bill gave her a knowing wink.

Hermione had always liked Bill. They had talked a lot during her stays with the Order, sharing stories of their respective travels and comparing their tastes in literature. Of course, they grew apart when he married Fleur; Bill had a wife and was planning a family and Hermione was still at school, dealing with problems far beyond her maturity level. However, the two had recently begun exchanging letters, and Hermione felt he no longer saw her as his youngest brother's nerdy friend, but a regular girl. Well, woman – Hermione hardly felt like a girl any longer.

Bill caught sight of the banner and frowned. "The last person I expected Harry to celebrate was Snape," he said. "I never liked the bloke. Plus, he was always such a git to Harry from what I'm told. I guess he saved his life or something, yeah?"

Hermione snorted. "Harry makes it seem more noble than it was." She paused. Although she definitely disagreed with Harry on Snape's status as a hero, he was still her friend and had been an emotional wreck since the Battle at Hogwarts. She hated showing anything less than support for him. Old habits died hard, she supposed. "It's a long story."

"He was such a brave man!" Harry wailed from across the room and burst into another round of tears. Sighing, Hermione placed her drink on a nearby table and went to comfort him, although Ron and Mrs. Weasley were doing a good job of it already.

A firm hand on her shoulder made her stop. "Walk with me?" Bill asked. When Hermione hesitated he continued. "I know it must be hard living with the pair of them now that they're, you know, a _pair_. Take a break for the night. Get a drink, on me."

Hermione motioned toward the glass she had set on the table. "I've got a drink."

"A better one, then. Some fruity concoction with a stupid name." He rubbed at his neck, surveying the room. Mrs. Weasley was now speaking about Snape, doing her best to find positive adjectives for Harry's sake. Most of the room sat awkwardly. Ginny was downing her fifth glass of Wingden's Wizard Wine. "Diagon Alley's just a brisk walk down."

Twenty minutes later, shivering from the snow, Hermione and Bill found seats at a small Muggle bar. Diagon Alley, they had found, was much more than a brisk walk away. When Hermione had fallen into the snow for the third time, the two had decided to duck in to the closest option rather than trek on.

"A Newcastle please," Bill told the bartender. With a sideways look at Hermione he added, "and one apple martini."

Hermione made a face. But, when the bartender returned with the drinks, she took a sip. "This is really good!" she exclaimed. Bill laughed. Finishing it in a few more gulps, she hailed the bartender. "Another apple martini please!"

Bill raised an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for the type of girl who likes little umbrellas in her drinks."

Hermione smacked his arm. "Shuddup." His muscles felt so firm under his long-sleeved blue shirt, but Hermione was careful not to let her hang linger long. Bill was married; he and Fleur were trying to start a family; he was like her brother.

Except he wasn't. While Hermione had always felt a brotherly comradeship with most of the Weasley boys, Bill always seemed much different than his brothers. Maybe it was because he was always so unavailable to her, even before his marriage. He lived in Egypt, doing work Hermione couldn't hope to understand, and was on all accounts brilliant and charming. Plus he was extremely handsome, even with the scars. His muscles filled out his tall frame, which was so very much unlike Ron, whose height just kept him lanky and awkward looking. Bill's long hair and fang earring only helped to confirm he was definitely not her type. As he took a sip of his ale, Hermione noticed how soft his lips looked.

Bill must have caught her looking as he asked, "Like what you see, Hermione?"

She blushed and drank her martini. "No. And how did you get as cocky as the twins?"

"I'm not, honest." He smiled a sad smile. "Just trying to flirt with a pretty girl."

Hermione almost choked on her drink. "Sorry?" she asked, wiping the bit of martini she had managed to splutter. "Come again?"

"Nevermind." Bill, red-faced for the first time in Hermione's memory, swallowed the rest of his beer. "Here, I'll walk you home."

"Bill." He looked up, and Hermione noticed how tired he looked. He had bags under his eyes and the scars on his face seemed to stand out more, making him look much older than he was. "Is everything okay with Fleur?" she asked. She put her finger up before he had a chance to respond. "And tell me honestly."

A long moment passed before Bill answered. He finished his ale, ordered another, and then finished that one. He signaled the bartender for a third and, finally, took a deep breath.

"Fleur is leaving me."

Hermione's mouth opened with an audible _pop_. "Oh, Bill! What happened? Are you okay?"

Bill shrugged, but the gathering moisture in his eyes seemed less nonchalant. "I'm alright. I'm not completely surprised. The War was too much on her, she missed France, Gabrielle is sick and she wants to be with her family while they visit Healers in Germany. And after my accident I just haven't been able to be there for her."

"Don't you dare, Bill Weasley," Hermione ordered. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this. That attack wasn't your fault, and if she can't understand what you're going through-"

"Let's drop it," Bill said, his voice thick. Hermione bit her lip. Tentatively, she reached down the bar and placed her hand in his. They were soft, much more so than she had expected; their fingers intertwined.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Ten minutes later and they had Apparated straight to her room, a tangle of limbs and wet kisses. Hermione was a bit more tipsy than she thought, and staying upright posed more of a challenge than normal. She pushed Bill onto the bed and straddled him, kissing him back with fervor as she began to unbutton his shirt.

Downstairs, Hermione could hear a dull conversation. Harry, Ron, and Ginny or Neville or someone shooting the breeze. Although she doubted anyone would come and check up on her (she had become rather invisible in light of Harry and Ron's new relationship, but then, when didn't Hermione feel invisible?), she broke her lips away from Bill's to mutter a Silencing Charm, and then went right back to snogging.

Bill's opened shirt gave Hermione room to explore. Her hands traced his firm abdomen, then grazed over his shoulders. Bill pulled Hermione's dress over her head – navy blue that Harry had bought for her years ago – leaving her exposed to the coolness of the room in nothing but a light pink bra and panties.

Bill pulled back from the kiss and stared at Hermione's nearly-naked form. Hermione blushed and covered her stomach. "Stop looking at me like that," she mumbled.

"Just admiring." Bill grinned and then returned to kissing her. His lips began to descend down her jaw, then her neck, and down to her clavicle. As he sucked on her shoulder he deftly removed her bra and took a small, pink nipple in his mouth. Hermione grabbed onto Bill's red hair and thrusted her chest into his mouth, adoring the feeling of his lips on her flesh. Lower his kisses went, down her stomach and to the tops of her knickers. Hermione found herself lying down and, in a matter of seconds, Bill had removed the small undergarment, his tongue licking her folds.

"Jesus Bill," she gasped. "A girl could use some warning."

Bill didn't respond, but lightly sucked on her clitoris as he inserted one long finger inside of her. He began to thrust his finger in and out, curling it to graze over the spot inside her that was routinely ignored, all the while alternating between sucking and licking her clit. As Hermione's moans increased, Bill inserted another digit, then another, picking up the pace until she was hoarse from screaming. She came on his face, rolling her hips and thrusting up into his mouth until she collapsed, spent.

When Hermione opened her eyes a few seconds later, she began to blush. "I'm sorry Bill, here I am and you still have your pants on..."

"Don't apologize," he interrupted. "We can stop if you like. Or..."

But stopping didn't seem like an appetizing option to Hermione. First of all, she was just the right amount of tipsy and horny to not over-think the situation at hand. But, what she did know, was that this was about more than sex; this was comfort of the most hedonistic kind.

Hermione pounced on Bill and flipped them both over until she was straddling him, her tits in his face. He took a nipple in his mouth (Bill seemed to particularly enjoy breasts) and pinched and rolled the other between his fingers, the tips still damp with her juices. As much as Hermione enjoyed his actions, she swatted his hand away and pushed him down. Then, slowly, she began to descend.

She licked her way down his chest, tongue grazing over the ginger hair that decorated the area between his pectorals; down his tight abdomen, which caused the muscles to tense in the most delicious way; and down the patch of red hair that disappeared into his jeans. Slightly clumsy fingers undid his buttons and pulled down his zipper. With a yank she pulled his jeans and boxers to mid-thigh and took his head in her mouth.

Blow jobs were not a particular talent of Hermione's. She had ventured into their world only a few times: once in an awkward encounter with Viktor Krum's member in the library, twice with Ron at Hogwarts, and once more with him at the Burrow. However, she felt inclined to return the favor Bill had bestowed upon her.

She swirled her tongue around his head, tasting the salty tang of his precum and not minding it as much as she expected to. Then, she slowly began to take him fully, careful to watch her teeth. She rose back up, sucking hard, and plummeted down again. On and on she went, her jaw muscles burning, but Bill's infrequent quiet gasps, _"Oh, Fuck!"_s, and random, erratic thrusts spurned her on.

"Hermione," Bill said, her name coming out as a moan. "I'm going to cum soon if you don't stop."

"Then cum."

That was all the encouragement Bill needed. He grabbed Hermione's hair tightly, her frizzy tendrils curling around his fingers, and thrust into her mouth again and again until Hermione had to pray her gag reflex wouldn't send her into vomiting convulsions and cursed herself for not remembering to cast some spell Fred and George had once mentioned.

"Fuck it," she heard him growl, and he rolled her onto her hands and knees and slipped into her with a thrust. Hermione cried out and grabbed a fistful of her bed sheets.

He pounded into her over and over, so hard it edged on pain. But any pain she felt only made her scream louder, her animalistic sounds peppered with a few _"Fuck!"_s and a_"Oh God, Bill, oh God!"_. Bill reached around and squeezed her breasts, twisting her nipples past the point of usual pleasure. Hermione felt tears sting her eyes and began to shake. (She never envisioned herself a masochist).

"Bill, oh fuck _Bill_, I'm gonna cum, don't stop, don't stop!"

Bill fucked her with intense fervor, faster than Hermione had thought possible. He let out a snarl that sounded not at all human and dug his fingers into her back so hard it left marks.

This was a completely different Bill. This was the animal he never let out, the remnants of his attack that had tried to suppress finally being set free.

Hermione's orgasm shook her body, her scream cut off mid-way as it reached a higher pitch than she could hear. Every part of her felt white-hot, like an explosion went off from her center and engulfed her whole body. Her toes curled, she threw her head back and gasped wordlessly as her body began . She slumped forward, her head resting on her forearms, ass still in the air. Bill continued to pump into her, but she felt so faraway she barely noticed.

He snarled again and Hermione was vaguely aware of him pulling out of her. She felt something wet explode onto her back as she collapsed onto the bed. Bill fell down next to her, breathing heavily.

"Christ," he whispered, voice horse. Hermione found no strength to respond, and didn't trust her voice to stay steady even if she did. She laid on her stomach, Bill's cum on her back, his own jeans still only halfway down his thighs.

They must have fallen asleep like that. Hermione awoke a few hours later – the clock read half past three – and, upon attempting to turn over, realized she had a rather sticky mess on her back.

"Bill?" she murmured, nudging him with her elbow. "Have you got your wand? Your spunk is all over me."

He opened his eyes groggily. "Spunk?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. Hermione wiggled her backside to show him the affected area. "Oh, shit. Sorry, there wasn't much place to aim."

Hermione laughed. "It's fine. Just clean it up, please, so I can roll over?"

Bill reached around the floor blindly, his arm long enough to extend down without making him leave the bed. He found his wand and quickly muttered, "_Evanesco._" Hermione felt the substance disappear.

Rolling onto her side to face him, she murmured, "Thanks." The pair drifted off to sleep again.

At six, Hermione was awoken by Bill attempting to sneak out of bed.

"Leaving already?" she yawned. Bill froze.

"I thought it would be better if I wasn't here in the morning, to spare you any awkward situations," he explained. "Would you like me to go?"

She looked at the clock. "No, it's too early. No one's up yet, and I'm fine as long as you are." Hermione felt him settle back in beside her. She was about to drift off again when a something occurred to her.

"_Are_ you fine?" she asked him, but then posed the question inwardly to herself. She had slept with a married man, because even if Fleur was planning on divorcing him, legal technicalities still mattered to Hermione. That was always a line Hermione felt was never to be crossed and, here she was, solidly on the other side. She felt a twinge of guilt.

Bill thought for a moment. "I mean, this wasn't exactly how I planned the night to end. I'm still a fucking mess from everything that's happened recently, and I hate to think that I used you."

"You didn't use me," Hermione disagreed. "I'm a big girl, Bill."

He smiled. "Apparently."

They were interrupted by a tapping noise at Hermione's window. A small barn owl stood at the windowsill, soft snowflakes falling behind him.

"I'll get it." Bill stood and pulled his jeans up, but not before Hermione stole a look at his ass. He pulled the window up and untied the letter from the owl's leg. He fished around for a Knut and placed it in the bird's beak, who then flew off.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, sitting up. Bill raised an eyebrow at the envelop.

"It's for me," he said, tearing it open. He read slowly, his eyes bulging as they made their way down the parchment.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

Bill looked up, his eyes unfocused. Then, suddenly, his face blanched and he seemed to snap back into reality. "I've got to go Hermione, I'm so sorry. Something's come up and I need to talk to Fleur."

Hermione winced.

"Is it about the divorce?" she asked, slightly hopeful. It wasn't as though she wanted to claim Bill as hers; Hermione had a lot of things to sort out before she pursued another relationship. She mostly hoped his split with Fleur would be finalized so any guilt she had could selfishly disappear.

"Something like that," he answered, throwing on his shirt and shoes. He grabbed his jacket, waved an awkward goodbye to Hermione, and dashed out of the door.

A week later Hermione sat at the kitchen table eating cereal and reading _The Daily Prophet_. Just as she was about to ask Harry if he was going to stay late at the Ministry again, Ron burst into the room.

"I just got back from the Floo with Mum. Bill and Fleur are having a baby!"

Hermione dropped her spoon; it fell to the ground with a clatter that went unnoticed as Harry shouted, "Brilliant!"

"Brilliant," Hermione repeated quietly.

Yes, Hermione was all for moving on, finding the good in people, and forgiving mistakes – except when it came to her own.


End file.
